


i think i'll sit this christmas out

by bentsage



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions
Genre: Christmas, Gen, Post-Canon, Wholesome Family Fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 07:13:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9061963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bentsage/pseuds/bentsage
Summary: Guzma doesn't want to go to a Christmas festival, so he ditches Hala in favor of hanging out with another grumpy loser, Nanu the shut-in kahuna.  They watch a race together, and everything is awesome.  Have a merry Christmas!





	

**Author's Note:**

> exactly what it says on the tin: a christmas story where guzma has a good time with nanu, finished just in time to be considered on time for Christmas!!! this is my tradition, ok.

            Guzma had had about enough of Christmas a month ago; now, two days out, any more holiday cheer is just icing on his gingerbread coffin.  He could do without - well, like, _everything_ that Christmas stands for.  The bright lights that hurt his eyes, the tree that sheds needles as it dies in the tropical climate, the obnoxious overabundance of Christmas songs, Christmas commercials, Christmas _movies_...  It's all trash, as far as Guzma's concerned.  He'd thought taking off to Ula'Ula with Hala two days before Christmas would save him from his dad's overwhelming holiday spirit, but Hala hadn't mentioned they were supposed to be going to a _holiday_ _festival_.  If he'd known, he never would've come!

            In hindsight, Guzma figures that's probably why Hala hadn't said anything.  Well, joke's on _him_ , because Guzma has other plans.  He takes off almost as soon as they get to the island, and he tries not to let Hala's jovial indifference as he leaves get him down as he scurries off before the tree-lighting ceremony.  He doesn't know for sure, but he thinks there are probably at least a few Skull grunts still lurking around Po Town, and he can't think of a better gift to them than the sudden reappearance of their boss.

            The closer he gets, though, the less it feels like a good idea.  It's like - the closer he gets, the heavier he feels, the weight of his long-gone bling pulling him down until his posture sags into an uncomfortable lurch.  He can hear Plumeria's voice in his head, calling him an idiot, and he can imagine how disappointed Hala would be if Guzma so much as _thought_ of going back to Team Skull...  By the time he clears the meadow, Guzma feels just damn _awful_ , and his anger boils as he begins to really second-guess himself.  He reaches up to pull on his hair, seeing the distant walls of Po Town, wondering if it hasn't already been sold back to the government, or something.  Maybe there's no Po Town to go back to, and all this internal struggling will be pointless.

            Hoping for a reason to not finish what he's started, Guzma is quick to notice that the lights are on in the police station.  Considering Ula'Ula's having a festival, Guzma had figured their kahuna would be down there making an appearance, but it looks like Nanu is avoiding it too.  Well - that's as good a distraction as anything, and he veers off the path to make his way up to the entrance.  There aren't any Meowth outside, and when Guzma goes to yank the door open, he finds it's locked.  He scoffs for a moment at the fact that the doors are locked on a police station, then bangs his fist on the glass.  Either it'll break, or Nanu's patience will.  Guzma's had a lot of practice at trying the old guy's patience, but he's honestly not sure which will hold out longer.

            Eventually, Nanu shuffles his way out of the back.  Guzma watches him pause between the desks when he sees who's visiting, and he can practically hear him sigh when he starts moving again.  He twists the double locks on the door and swings it open, scowling openly at Guzma's sudden reappearance in his neck of the woods.

            "Looks like your Meowth ain't all eaten you yet," Guzma says.

            "What are you doing here, punk?" Nanu replies, voice dry enough to be a fire hazard.  "I thought Hala had a leash on you."

            Guzma scoffs at the idea.  Hala wouldn't have the guts to try and put his foot down with him!  And even if he did, he would never be so direct about it.  Hala's all about reverse psychology.  "Ain't nobody putting me in my place, old man.  Hell, he didn't even care I decided to bounce, yo!"

            Nanu doesn't look particularly impressed.  Guzma half expects him to call up Hala right now to confirm.  Eventually, his expression evens out and he says, "Unless you're here to start trouble, I don't have time for you."

            "Oh yeah?  What are you doin', wrapping presents and hangin' your socks for Santa?"

            Nanu chuckles, and Guzma tries not to seem surprised.  "I don't have time for that shit, either," he says; he's probably the first adult Guzma's ever met who's told him flat out that they're not into Christmas either.

            "Yeah," Guzma says, desperately trying to be dismissive about the whole thing without showing how eager he is to shit-talk the holiday.  "Hala wanted to do a thing.  You know."  He waves a hand.  "With trees and lights and shit.  Figured I'd bounce.  Come here, I guess.  I dunno.  Head to Po Town, see what's up."

            Nanu is silent for a moment.  Then: "Hmph."  He turns without closing the door, leaving Guzma on the welcome mat like a dink.  "I've got the race on, and I'm not changing it for anything.  Don't irritate my Meowths.  There's beer in the fridge."  And... that's it.  No desperate bids to get him to see the error of his ways, no weird semi-lectures?  Hell, Nanu offered him beer without worrying over if he would make "safe drinking decisions" or not.

            Guzma closes the door behind him, standing for a moment in the police station.  He's not sure if he should be pleased or intimidated by Nanu's careless welcome.  Well, at least there's free beer, and no pressing for him to be holly and/or jolly.  Even if it means he has to risk a surprise lecture or Christmas Lesson, its still loads better than wandering stalls with Hala imitating Santa every time a little kid gives him that "could-he-be?" look.

            Heading into the back after Nanu, Guzma notices the barest hints of the holiday littered around the station.  A Meowth bats a plastic ornament around under one of the desks.  The calendar marks the month with a picture of an Exeggutor wrapped in Christmas lights.  When he reaches the break room and office space that Nanu uses as his home, he sees an undecorated artificial tree leaning against the far wall, and a conspicuously Santa-shaped plate of cookies on the table next to the sofa.

            "Acerola had it delivered," Nanu tells Guzma before he can ask about the tree.  "Cookies too.  You can have one."  There's an emphasis on the number there, like it's non-negotiable, and Guzma grins briefly before making his way to the refrigerator.  There's a whole shelf of beer, which is _awesome_.  There's even a magnetic bottle opener on the door, which he uses before heading towards the couch.  His dad refuses to buy him any more than a six-pack of light beer at a time, because he honestly thinks it's less alcoholic than regular beer, so this has so far been a win.

            The announcer on television calls out a course of names, and Guzma recognizes the Rhyhorn race semi-finals almost immediately.  "Damn, I forgot this was today, yo!  That new girl from Kalos is gonna bag this one just like all the placing races."

            "I have money on her, so she better," Nanu mutters into his bottle.  Guzma takes a swig of his own and thinks that betting on a new rider is a pretty risky move.  Riskier than he'd expect from a guy like Nanu.  Even riskier than that is the sudden admission that follows, a momentary dropping of his guard as he adds, "Good to know you're on top of the competition."

            "Hell yeah.  Rhyhorn racing looks like fun," Guzma says, pointing with his bottle at the screen as two riders nearly careen into each other.  "Besides, _anythin'_ is better than all the holiday movies I've gotta sit through at home."  Nanu's chuckle encourages him to continue, "And my dad only wants to watch _Pikachu's_ _Christmas_ _Bonanza_.  Like, every _day_.  You ever _met_ the Pikachu from those films?  That guy's a _dick_."

            "Most Pikachus are dicks," Nanu replies, and Guzma tries not to splutter on his beer.  He catches Nanu's half-smirk out of the corner of his eye, and quickly drains the rest of his beer to keep from embarrassing himself.

            The race is a little over a third of the way through, but the new Kalos rider is definitely geared for a first-time win.  Nanu doesn't seem worried about his money, and Guzma doesn't care, so it's not hard to just enjoy the race.  So much so that Guzma forgets about visiting Po Town, too busy making comments and listening to Nanu's criticisms of the racers to think about Team Skull.  That is, at least until the half-time break starts with a caroling choir opening than sends him to his feet for his second beer.  Nanu doesn't stop him, so he polishes the second bottle off in the kitchen and comes back with his third only when he hears the announcers cutting to commercial.  This would be a good time to head out and finish the trip to Po Town, but now that he's had time to think about it, the less he wants to do it.

            "I thought you were going to check in on things," Nanu says when Guzma sits down again, as though reading his mind.  It's not a question - if anything, it's an accusation, either that Guzma can't stay away from Team Skull, or that he's being a coward for not going through with it.  Maybe he's just irritated that Guzma hasn't gotten bored and left yet.

            "Maybe I still am," Guzma grunts.  Nanu doesn't respond, and Guzma lets the silence stand for a bout a minute before he gives in and admits, "Maybe I'm not.  I dunno."  He hesitates, but if there's anyone who's going to know what's going on with Po Town, it'd be Nanu.  "Is... the town's not, like.  Empty, or anything, right?"

            Nanu scoffs, but the sound doesn't irritate Guzma as much as it used to.  "Still kids hanging around," he says, watching the halftime show with eyes glazed over from all the Christmas cheer.  "They don't wanna leave.  Nobody's workin' to get the place back in shape, though.  Dunno how long before someone comes by and condemns the entire town."

            Guzma doesn't know how to take that.  What would happen to all the grunts who didn't have places to go back to?  Sure, he had his parents, and most of the Team had fallback plans with relatives, but some of them...  Some of them shouldn't go back, even if they can.

            "You're worried about it," Nanu points out.  Guzma bristles, but Nanu doesn't let him get too blustery about it.  "I'm keeping an eye on them.  You don't have to worry."

            The reassurance is... unexpected.  More than that, he seems sympathetic, and Guzma's not sure what to do about that.  Nanu's never sat this long with him, much less been so... _nice_.  He realizes he's sitting with his hands in his lap like an eight-year-old without a Gameboy, and immediately reaches for his drink.  "Whatever.  I just wanted to know what was going on.  Too damn lazy to walk the rest the way."

            "Too _drunk_ ," Nanu suggests with his near-mocking half-smile.  "But lazy works."

            "You're the one whose fridge is mostly beer.  And I ain't no lightweight, old man."  He guzzles some of his beer to prove his point, then changes the subject before it gets too real for his liking.  "How much money you got ridin' on the brat from Kalos?"

            "A few hundreds.  Didn't want to get cocky just because of her mom's reputation."  He glances in Guzma's direction, then points at the plate on the table.  "Have a cookie.  Acerola will give me a lecture if she comes back and I haven't cleaned the plate."

            It's weird.  Guzma takes one of the cookies cut like a Stantler, ignoring the way Nanu watches him out of the corner of his eyes as he takes a bite.  It's gingerbread, but instead of being hard and crunchy like the kind his dad makes, they're soft and probably the best he's ever tasted.  He eats it in a few bites, then almost goes for another before he remembers himself, washing the sweet icing down with rapidly warming beer.  Nanu looks pleased, but he doesn't make a lesson out of it like Hala might.

            The girl from Kalos comes in second, in the end.  "Well, that sucks," Nanu says as the announcer declares the results, but he's got an unconcerned smile on and looks real comfortable slouched into the sofa.  Guzma lounges too, knowing full well that he's going to have to hightail it back to Malie City, but the walk is going to be long and he doesn't really want to make it right now.  He hasn't felt this comfortable in ages - probably since leaving Po Town.

            "Looks like you lost out," Guzma laughs.

            "Yeah.  Like I said, not a lot.  It's fine."  Nanu pushes himself up, stretching leisurely.  "It was a good race."

            "She did pretty good," Guzma admits, surprising himself by adding, "I don't think I have the stamina for Rhyhorn racing."

            Nanu laughs at that.  "Pretty sure I'd be crap at it too," he says, heading for the fridge.  It's so _weird_ to see him so relaxed.  Hell, it's weird to see any adult so relaxed, and Guzma can't help but wonder what it is that's changed.  It's not like he's been gone for years, or anything - it's been a couple months, maybe.  Whatever it is, he kind of likes it.  It's nice not to have to deal with weird metaphors, or lectures, or lots of needling questions from well-meaning but patronizing adults.

            The commercials end and the post-race talk starts, which is the most boring part of the sport in Guzma's opinion.  "Yeah, this is boring," he says, pushing himself to his feet, "I'm out."

            "Alright," Nanu says from the kitchenette, without looking back.

            Despite how cool Nanu is with it, Guzma feels suddenly guilty for being rude.  It's a weird, new way of feeling bad and he doesn't like it, so he quickly adds, "Hala's gonna start wonderin' where I'm at.  Eventually."

            "It's fine."  Nanu waves a hand.  "Take another cookie, or something, and don't worry too much about those Po Town squatters.  I'll keep an eye on them."

            Guzma doesn't hesitate to grab a tree-shaped cookie, biting off the star but saving the rest for later.  He considers ignoring the reassurance, but in the end he decides it's better to be thankful for the help.  His grunts got into plenty of trouble even when he was around to keep an eye out, after all.  "Cool," he says around bits of gingerbread.  "Those knuckleheads need all the help they can get right now."

            Nanu considers him for a long moment, and it feels like the first time he's ever been sized up by the kahuna.  "You got it, kid," he says at last, waving dismissively.  Guzma doesn't take insult to it like he normally would, and he can tell Nanu notices.  "Y'know, it was good to see you," the kahuna adds, and there's no way Guzma can hide his shock.  "I know, I'm already regretting saying it," he continues, even as his lopsided smile grows.  "Stop by next time you almost make it to Po Town."

            "Next time, I'm _ignoring_ your ass," Guzma replies, but of course he doesn't mean it.  Nanu knows it, too, and he gives him a parting pat on the back as he passes by.  He can already hear the channels flipping on the television by the time he gets to the front door.

            The whole walk back, Guzma tries to figure out what changed Nanu's perception of him.  He _knows_ he hasn't changed - aside from Hala beating his ass twice a week at Pokemon battles, he hasn't made any effort to change anything.  But Nanu hadn't been all aggressive and lecture-prone, not like Guzma's used to anyway, and for the most part, he might as well have been any of Guzma's friends.  Except, earning the respect of his other friends hadn't been so _hard_.

            Just as he sees the bright lights of Malie City out across the bay, the emotional puzzle pieces fall into place.  Guzma realizes with more clarity than he's used to that Nanu had just been treating him like an adult.  And, well, it had been pretty awesome.

            Hala is talking to Hau near the pier, laughing with full-belly rumble, and Guzma is surprised at how easily he walks right over to them.  Maybe something about him _has_ changed.

            "Guzma!" Hala exclaims, his voice loud enough to bring stares.  Guzma immediately tenses, then sighs internally with relief - nope, he's still himself.  "I was beginning to get worried.  Hau and I were deciding where to wait."

            "Sorry," Guzma replies, barely even thinking about the apology before it happens.  "I was with Nanu.  No reason to call the cops."

            Hau laughs.  "Because you were _with_ the cops!  I get it.  You're a funny guy, Guzma!"

            "Gee," Guzma grunts, "Thanks."

            "I'm glad you stopped in on him," Hala says, with a big grin that admittedly makes Guzma feel pretty good about himself.  "He can be hard to reach on race days."

            "I thought you'd be pissed I bailed," Guzma says, shoving his hands in his pockets.  "Going to do my own thing after you brought me here and all."

            Hala shrugs, wearing a wide smile.  "I'm not about to force you to do things you won't enjoy.  As long as you aren't causing trouble, I don't mind you choosing your own path.  Besides, I had a feeling that Christmas isn't your style."

            "That's..."  He wishes he weren't wearing his good shoes, because he wants to fidget enough to scuff them up.  "I guess that's cool to know."

            "Come on, Guzma," Hau shouts, slapping him on the back hard enough to send him stumbling, "Grandpa's gonna get us malasadas!  Don't be so _weird_."

            "I'm not bein' weird!"  Guzma goes as far as giving the kid a rough shove, but he makes sure he doesn't knock him over or anything.  Knowing Hau, it'd start a whole round of rough-housing that would pretty much ruin his clothes, so he tries to avoid it at all costs.  "Fine, as long as I don't gotta pay for anythin'."

            And in the end, the three of them went off and ate two plates of malasadas a piece, and Hala paid for it all.  MERRY CHRISTMAS


End file.
